


we get a few years and then it wants us back

by wyverary



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dramatic Irony, Existential Dread, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, Late at Night, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Slow Dancing, at least i think lol, whats a fic without repression really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyverary/pseuds/wyverary
Summary: Nothing kills a mood more than knowing in a couple hours your hometown might literally be the death of you(aka Richie, Eddie, and a brief trip down memory lane set to music)





	we get a few years and then it wants us back

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is some of the most melodramatic shit ive ever written & when i was 12 i wrote rotg self insert fanfic where my oc fucking died lmao, anyway i wrote most of this a couple days after i saw mitski back in october bc i was emo, hopefully it doesnt count as a songfic but its very much inspired by two slow dancers 
> 
> idk why but i rly like the idea that the outcome of it all is the exact opposite of what either one thought would happen, and by like i mean im gonna rip out my hair
> 
> lowkey im rly anxious someone else has already written something like this & that im inadvertently stealing this maybe im just paranoid but if theres anything it seems like ive taken from someone else let me know

Like always, it was Richie’s idea. And like always, what could Eddie do but go along with it? 

It was nothing short of stupid to go out at night, when they already had one down for the count before they’d even begun. And the Losers’ presence hadn’t gone unnoticed if the scene in the restaurant was anything to go by. It only occurred to him now, after Richie had knocked on the door of his motel room, leaning against the frame with his head inclined like a leather jacket punk and not a forty year old in a flannel and raggedy jeans, that he maybe should’ve gone right back to sleep. 

But it was cold out and here he was, shivering in the moonlight. Some vacation.

Eddie couldn’t help but steal looks at him every so often. He had to tell himself it wasn’t the ‘80s anymore every time he caught his gaze straying as they headed to wherever they were going. Guess he never quite soothed the guilt that comes with looking at other boys. The path was familiar, and so was Richie, but both had grown into something he couldn’t place. Richie still wasn’t much for seriousness, but he was a little more subdued. As much trouble as he’d had with growing facial hair in high school, it looked like he’d skipped the razor the last couple days. Eddie didn’t look much better, for that matter. Or, he assumed he didn’t. All those horror movie cliches had warned him against looking in the mirror in case he saw something he didn’t want to see. Looking at himself was disheartening, anyway; he’d also grown into something he didn’t recognize. 

“It’s fuckin’ cold, Rich, are we almost there?” 

“Patience, my dear, is a virtue.”

Eddie huffed. “If we don’t get there in the next two minutes, I’m leaving.”

“Some things never change, I guess.” Richie laughed and kept walking. “Just trust me, Spaghetti Man. Would you rather sit alone in your room ‘til tomorrow or have a good time with me tonight?”

Eddie shook his head and kept up his pace behind him. It was hard to get the idea of what a “good time” with Richie would be out of his head, but he managed. It was an art form he’d perfected by age fifteen. 

“Come up with a better nickname, asshole.” 

_Some things never change._ Didn’t they, though? Eddie can’t imagine growing up with this more mature version of Richie. There’s the ribbing, yes, but it wasn’t insatiable the way it once was. It was less looking for a reaction and more creating his own comfort. Richie wasn’t chomping at the bit anymore, he just looked more like a racehorse after breaking its legs.

It didn’t take much longer to reach Richie’s secret spot, and it only took a couple seconds for it to settle into Eddie’s brain.

The memories didn’t come back in a rush, as soon as he crossed the town border. Derry was more like a box of old photographs, and the more Eddie roamed around and saw people he used to know, the more he began to know it all over again. It still wasn’t all there. Not all the moments making up a childhood withstand the test of time. 

This one did.

“Derry High?”

“Yup.”

Eddie took a good look at Richie, thumbs in his pockets, silhouetted in the moonlight. He didn’t seem to notice as he stepped up beside him, just staring straight ahead at the grey building from the wet grass field in back. 

“This is what you wanted to show me? Trust me, I’ve seen it.” 

Richie snapped out of it, then. “No, no, there’s more, follow me, dude.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and they headed around the side to the double doors. But when Richie stopped there he realized what was happening.

“Richie, we are not breaking in.”

Richie chuckled a bit. “No, of course not! I’d never make you stoop to such a level. I have a key.”

“You do?” 

“Absolutely,” said Richie, fishing a hairpin out of his pocket and holding it up.

“Jesus Christ.”

“If you turn around now, you’ll have plausible deniability.”

It was ridiculous what Eddie’s life was in that moment. “Where’d you even learn to do that?”

Richie’s voice came out a little strained as he worked the lock. “Gotta learn a _few_ things to survive on the mean streets of Los Angeles.”

Eddie’s eyes stayed on Richie’s hands as the lock clicked, only moving to his face as the door swung open.

Richie beckoned him in. “After you.”

“...If the cops come I’m leaving you here.” And with that said, Eddie headed inside. 

The school gym was dark, and maybe a few degrees warmer than the temperature outside. When Richie flicked on the lights, the room lit up and Eddie blinked, looking around while his eyes adjusted. It was pretty barren; no sports equipment or gym clothes out in the open, only the occasional streamer left taped on the wall from a dance. It could’ve smelled worse. Richie’s high tops squeaked on the floor; if he’d gotten older, he sure didn’t dress like it, Eddie thought. Still, the way Richie just kind of walked around the empty room, face casual as ever but bones sagging with weight, felt wrong. 

“Rich, are you okay?”

Richie turned and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He looked surprised at the question. “Fine, why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, looking away. “Just, you seem a little off, is all.”

“It’s just this town, man,” he sighed. “Y’know what I mean?”

A pause. Only a couple more hours. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

When he looked back at Richie he was already meeting his eyes. For a second it was consuming, and then he turned away and pulled his phone swiftly out of his pocket. “You remember Senior Prom?”

The memory of Prom ‘94 was a bucket of ice water over Eddie’s head, choking him as he spoke. 

“Yeah, I remember,” he said hoarsely.

“When we ditched the slow dance and went out to my car--”

“I remember.”

Richie looked down, frowning a bit. Fidgeting a little, he took out his earbuds and plugged them into his phone, holding one out to Eddie. “You wanna dance?”

He felt his brow furrow as he tried to work out what to say to that. It’s stupid, really, how often Richie can catch him off guard even when Eddie knows to expect it from him. Richie just keeps doing it somehow. Eddie’s stomach dropped as Richie stepped closer and took his hand. It’s a nice thought, but if they make it out tomorrow they’re all gonna go back to their regular lives. Whatever this was, it would screw that right up. How would Eddie know what he’s supposed to do in this situation?

Richie pulled Eddie toward him by the hand, and Eddie pushed his shaking hands up against his chest. 

“Richie, wait, we’re not _kids_ anymore. I have a wife.” It was the first time he’d thought about Myra since he’d left her in New York. 

“She’s not here,” Richie said, almost in a whisper, pressing closer. 

When he said it like that it was harder for Eddie to tell himself it was a bad idea.

“Please, Eds. Humor a dead man?”

Richie’s eyes were earnest as he looked into them, and all of a sudden he knew what to do. Reaching out before he could think too hard about it, Eddie took the earbud in Richie’s other hand and put it in his ear. 

“Sorry about the cord, I never really got into AirPods.”

“Cyndi Lauper? Really?”

“‘Time After Time’ is a good song and I stand by that,” said Richie, crooked smile completely ruining any attempt at seeming serious. “I could play ‘It’s Raining Men’ if you’d prefer.”

“This is fine. Dick.”

Richie’s smile got even bigger. “Shall we?”

He reached down to Eddie’s wrists and gently brought them up around his own neck. “How’s this?”

Maybe if this wasn’t happening now, if he and Richie were twelve again and worried too much about the rest of the world, Eddie would complain about being the girl in this dance. But he’s here now, at the end of the world, and it’s a comfort he’ll take.

Instead, he furrows his brow and asks, “Do you even know how to lead?”

Richie leaned in conspiratorially as his hands met Eddie’s waist. “I’ll figure it out.”

The music only played in Eddie’s right ear but it was enough to make it all feel removed. Like the only world that existed was the one at his fingertips, flannel and warm stubbled skin. Neither had ever really learned how to dance, so they stuck to swaying back and forth. 

Eddie spent the time studying Richie’s face. Richie looked his age. A couple thin strands of hair had already turned gray by his forehead, the corners of his eyes had delicate creases, and his lips were chapped. Most of all, though, his eyes just looked tired. It’s still him, though. Eddie hadn’t recognized it before, but he does now. His young face is still in there, scared to die and trying to pretend he won’t. That’s when it occurred to him.

“What’d you mean when you said you were a dead man?”

Richie’s limbs tensed up for a moment, but he kept swaying like nothing was wrong. Cyndi trailed off and turned into Bowie’s voice. _Heroes._

“If one of us has to stay down there, it might as well be me.”

Eddie’s stomach twisted. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

“It’s true,” Richie shrugged. “Everyone else has someone to go back to after this. I’ve got nobody.”

Words failed him. “But…”

Richie sighed. “I’m not jumping for joy, here. It’s just inevitable.”

“We survived when we were kids. _You_ survived. With a fucking baseball bat.”

“You sound so sure when you care.”

“I _do_ care. You think I wanna do this? If I’m here fighting, then you should fight, too.”

Richie pulled him closer into his encircled arms. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

It didn’t quite reassure him, but it was a losing argument, so Eddie sighed and laid his head on Richie’s chest as they moved together. Richie was warm and the movement was soothing and he could’ve fallen asleep there if he wasn’t careful. Eddie turned his face into Richie’s chest and inhaled the lingering scent of stale cigarettes. He didn’t have anything to lose, anyway. Only the heartbeat a couple inches from his own skin. He was about to pull away, maybe apologize if he’d gone too far, but Richie held him close, dropping a kiss on his head. 

Richie’s next words came out low and hoarse, like they left his mouth in spite of him.

“We never had a chance, did we.”

“We did, we just wasted it.”

“That’s not fair, though, is it?”

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“Shit.”

Eddie couldn’t help the words welling up inside his regretful body. “Maybe it would’ve helped if you’d stayed and talked to me instead of ditching for college as soon as you could.”

“You’re right,” said Richie. He sounded tired. “I fucked up. I was, what, eighteen? Prom just...freaked me out. I’d spent so much time wanting you to kiss me that I didn’t know what to do when you actually did. And now I have to pay for that.”

Eddie looked him in the eye and shook his head. “Not like this.”

Richie said nothing.

The song ended with no more talking from them, and they left the gym after that, Eddie making sure to turn the lights out as they walked away. There was no great ceremony to it. Just closing the doors on a dark room and heading back out into the cold.

Richie was snuffed out, bracing himself for the worst without a word in edgewise, and it was fucking terrifying. But neither of them were what they were supposed to be.

Eddie hadn’t really changed at all, had he? Being confronted with the past only made him more certain. He was trapped then and he was trapped now; the only difference was now he knew it. He knew it, but not enough to matter. For Eddie, a thin line existed between Child and Adult, and he walked it treacherously like a tightrope. After all this time, he still hadn’t bothered to learn how to be a real person.

The ground was as hard as it was on the way there. He couldn’t really tell which trip took longer. Both walks felt long in one way or another, twisting his guts and making him wish he were anywhere but here. 

And then they reached the bright lights of the inn, and it felt like facing an inevitable truth, and the walking in-between felt like the better option to him.

They hadn’t talked at all the whole way back. He had just tried to pretend he couldn’t feel Richie’s eyes on him. To pretend he wasn’t avoiding looking his way.

It wasn’t until Eddie was halfway through turning the key in his door that he spoke up. 

“I need to divorce my wife.”

It was more muttering than speaking, really. He’d never even had the thought to say it before it came out.

Richie laughed, but there was no trace of that child from before. “Think of it this way: if I die, it’ll be so you can live out the rest of your happy life. Do that for me.”

Eddie turned to face him.

“You being this grim is freaking me out, y’know that?”

“Me and my jokes’ll be back tomorrow if you like.”

Eddie gazed firmly into his eyes. “I’m gonna make it out of there alive, and I swear to God I’m taking you with me.”

Richie didn’t say anything, just flicked his eyes over his body, really taking in the man before him.

“Hey. Richie,” whispered Eddie, stepping forward. “You _know_ I...I…”

But the words wouldn’t come.

He looked down toward his shoes. “You know what I mean.”

Richie only kept staring at him silently, like he hadn’t heard a word Eddie said. 

“Goddamnit, Richie, say something.”

“I...I’ll see ya in the morning, alright?” He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just turned and walked down the fluorescent-lit hall. Eddie didn’t stop him; he just watched him go as he pressed his weight up against the doorframe. He was far from hopeful about the situation, but. 

There would be another time.

**Author's Note:**

> woo come point at me & laugh on tumblr @miraclerats


End file.
